


Of Wool And Men

by Ignisentis



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blue language, Canon Divergent, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, Knitting, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-21
Updated: 2014-01-21
Packaged: 2018-01-09 13:33:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1146590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ignisentis/pseuds/Ignisentis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Castiel becomes human, he takes up knitting as a hobby.  Dean slowly learns to like it.  Meanwhile, Sam has terrible timing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Wool And Men

**Author's Note:**

> A HUGE thank you to my wonderful artist, Paxdracona, who was kind enough to let me use her art prompt in a fic I was already writing. Also, she was super supportive and wonderful throughout this whole process. Go check out her art masterpost http://paxdracona.livejournal.com/10770.html and give her some love!
> 
> Also thanks to my alpha reader, Z, and my beta, costsofregret, without whom I never could have finished this fic. You guys are fabulous, and I bow down in thanks.
> 
> Lastly, as a knitter myself, I really just wanted a fic where Cas knitted, too. So I wrote one.

When Dean suggested that Castiel take up a hobby to fill up his free time now that he was human, he never expected that Cas would settle on knitting.

"Dude, knitting?  It's just… _knitting_?"

"It relaxes me, Dean," Cas tells him primly.  "The repetition of the movements is soothing.  And I get to create things, to put them together with my own two hands, to give life to lifeless yarn.  I would have though you, of all people, would understand that."

Well, shit.  Dean feels guilty for a week until he finally cracks and searches for a knitting store close by the bunker.  He makes up some excuse about picking up supplies and curses himself for being so whipped the entire drive there.

A bell jingles pleasantly as Dean steps through the door and instantly freezes.  He's never seen such a cacophony of color in his life.  There are vivid hues of purple and blue and yellow and orange, colors he doesn't even know the name of, all sorted into bins, and stacked against every wall, and piled in crates in the open spaces.  There are displays full of needles, and books, and accessories – and is that a fucking spinning wheel in the corner?

"Let me guess: not here for yourself, are you?" 

Dean startles as a middle-aged brunette woman addresses him from across the room.  He snorts. "That obvious, huh?"

The woman smiles at Dean.  "Just a bit.  So who's the knitter?  Mother?  Wife?  Girlfriend?"

"My, uh, my boyfriend, actually."  Dean offers a small smile.

"Oh!  How lovely."  She smiles back at Dean.  "Did you have any idea about what you wanted to get him?"

"Hell no."

She laughs.  "How about we pick out some yarn that you like, then, in case he decides to knit you something?  That way at least you'll like the color and the feel of it."

Dean follows her around the store and ends up with more yarn than he knows what to do with.  He also picks out a couple sets of the wooden needles Cas seems to prefer.  And a needle case so Cas can keep things organized.  And a project bag he can use to store his current project, maybe take it on hunts with him.  And a pattern book full of knitting patterns called "Knits For Men," because there is no way in hell Cas is gonna knit him some woman's sweater, damn it.

Dean pays for his purchases, wincing a little at the giant store logo on the bag, and heads out the door, the saleswoman calling a spirited "good luck!" after him.  He tosses the way-too-full bag of knitting supplies onto the passenger seat, sighs heavily, and gets into the car.  He's going to have to sneak the giant bag past Sam somehow and give it to Cas later in their room, because if Sam sees what's inside, Dean will never hear the end of it.

"Jesus, I am so fucking whipped."  Dean sighs again and starts the Impala, relaxing as she grumbles to life. 

He takes his time driving back to the bunker, trying to figure out how he wants to give the knitting gear to Cas. He hasn't made a decision by the time he gets home, so he grabs the bag and heads inside. He peeks around the room from the gantry above when he walks inside the bunker proper, keeping an eye out for Sam, Cas, or Kevin. The room is blessedly empty, so Dean hurries toward his and Cas' room. Just as he's about to turn down the hallway, he hears Sam's voice behind him call out, "What's in the bag?"

Shit. Fucking _shit_. "Nothing," Dean yelps. "Just supplies."

Sam snorts. "From the Yarn Barn?  Are you on a hunt for some sort of killer grandmother ghost or something?"

"Killer grandmother ghost?" Dean scoffs.  "Do you even hear yourself anymore?"

"Don't try to change the subject, Dean. What's in the bag?"

Dean looks down at the floor, shuffles his feet, and mumbles hurriedly, "KnittingsuppliesforCas."

Sam blinks and stares at his brother. "Did you – did you just say 'knitting supplies for Cas'?"

Dean raises his head and points his best _I'm going to end you_ glare at his brother.

Sam's eyebrows shoot up. "Holy shit, you did. That's. I. Huh." 

Dean can see the corners of Sam's mouth starting to twitch and turn up, like he's fighting to not laugh, and, "Don't you say a fucking word," he barks.

Sam coughs down his laughter. "I would never."

"I mean it, Sam. Not one fucking word."

"I promise."

"Good. Now go do some research or something and leave me alone."

Sam's mouth is still twitching as he says, "Sure, Dean. Whatever you want."

Dean turns to go to his room when he hears Sam make a _wapshh_ sound, like a whip cracking.

"Damn it, Sam!"

"What?! I didn't say a word!"

"You made a whip sound!"

"Yeah, 'cause you are _so_  whipped!"

"You know what?  Fuck you."

_Wapshh!_

"At least I'm getting laid on a regular basis. In fact, there's this one thing Cas does with his ton—"

"Augh, gross, Dean!  I need bleach for my brain now."

Dean smirks and makes his way to their bedroom, closing the door and dropping the bag on the bed. He thinks about trying to wrap some of the stuff he bought, until he reminds himself that A) he doesn't have a vagina, and B) they don't have any wrapping paper anyway. Feeling satisfied with his decision, Dean heads to the kitchen to scrounge up some food.

Snacks procured, Dean makes his way to the bunker's main room. He heads toward the most comfortable armchair in the room, sets his plate of food on the side table, and plucks _Game of Thrones_ off of the bookshelf. He wants to see if Joffrey really is that big an asshole or if the show is just playing it up.

He's so engrossed in the book that he doesn't hear Castiel approaching until Castiel calls his name from a few feet away and closing fast.

Dean looks up.  "Shit, Cas, you startled me.  Is there something you— _oof_!"  Dean is cut off as six feet of former angel crawls into his lap and starts kissing him silly, and, _fuck yeah_ , this is way better than any book.

Castiel is cupping Dean's face with both hands, holding him still as he licks his way into Dean's mouth and takes what he wants. And what he wants, apparently, is to map every surface of Dean's mouth with his tongue, which Dean is _so_ on board with. Dean sits back and lets Cas plunder his mouth, drinking down the husky little noises Cas doesn't seem to know he's making until he finally breaks the kiss, pulling back to catch his breath.  


 "I take it you found the bag, then?" Dean asks.

"Mm-hmm," Cas replies as he leans down and mouths at Dean's neck, sucking and nibbling until Dean's sure he's got hickies all over, like some hormonal teenager.

"You're like a fucking vampi— _aaaaaaaaaah_ ," Dean groans out as Cas bites down on the juncture between his shoulder and his neck. He's rigid now, cock straining against his jeans, and he rocks his hips up instinctively, feels Cas' dick against his, long and hard.

Cas grinds down into Dean's lap. "You love it," he says, as he runs his hand through Dean's hair, tugging until Dean's throat is taut and bared for him.

Dean moans. "I do, actually.  Ahh, fuck. Right there, yeah, Cas."  He can feel Cas smiling as he continues nibbling on his neck, the little shit. He's way too composed. Dean wants him needy and falling apart.

He moves his hands to Cas' hips and pulls him down as he flexes up. Cas moans but doesn't stop sucking on Dean's neck, so Dean forces the issue by grabbing the hem of Castiel's shirt and pulling it over his head, throwing it to the floor.  Castiel grunts his approval and latches back on to Dean, this time at the bolt of his jaw.  He's grinding down on Dean methodically, and it feels so good that it takes a moment for Dean to realize that Cas is going at the exact speed proven to drive him fucking crazy; just fast enough to feel incredible but slow enough that it won't get him off.

"Fucking tease," he says breathlessly.

Castiel smiles and leans in to whisper sinfully in Dean's ear, "The best things come to those who wait, Dean."

Fuck that. Dean thrusts his hips up as he pulls Cas in for a kiss, rough and filthy.  He swallows Cas' moans as he works his hand into Cas' jeans and grabs his ass.  He knows how much Cas loves it when Dean plays with his ass, and he's rewarded with a breathy _fuuuuck_ as Cas breaks their kiss and shudders.

Dean oh so slowly works his finger down the crease of Castiel's ass, smiling as he feels Cas start to roll his hips faster, pushing back into Dean's hand and throwing his head back.  Dean loves how uninhibited Cas is when they're together like this, loves how light being with Cas makes him feel.

His finger is almost at Castiel's hole when he hears approaching footsteps.

"Hey, guys, I was wondering if—AUGH!  GROSS, DEAN!"

Castiel whips his head up and glares at Sam like he wants to smite him where he stands. "Go away, Sam," he growls.

"You have your own bedroom! Stop having sex in the common room! Some of us have to live here, too, you know," Sam counters.

Dean whimpers as Cas climbs off his lap and strides across the room, saying, "Fine. We'll retire to our bedroom. But know that it's now my personal mission to make your brother scream louder than he ever has before."

Dean chokes down a laugh as he follows Cas, Sam's cry of, "AUGH, GROSS, CAS!" echoing behind them. Castiel pulls Dean into their room, slams the door behind them, and proceeds to show Dean exactly how grateful he is for the gift.

 

*********************

The next day is a rare day off. Sam is looking for a hunt, Kevin is working on translating the angel tablets, Castiel is looking through his new knitting pattern books, and Dean is bored. He’s already washed the car, cleaned the kitchen, and sharpened his machete and knives.  He walks over to where Cas is and plops down into a nearby chair with a heavy sigh.  When that garners no reaction from Cas, Dean sighs again.  Halfway through his third sigh, he hears Castiel say, "Dean, go be bored somewhere else.  I'm busy."

Bingo.  Dean waggles his eyebrows and counters, "I can think of a few ways you can help cure my boredom."

"I'm sure you can.  You're very creative."

Dean huffs.  "I'm talking about sex, Cas.  With me."

"I know."

"You'd seriously rather look at your knitting books than have sex right now?"

Castiel doesn't bother responding, but looks up from his book with a _why are you still bothering me_? glare.

"All right, all right," Dean pouts.  "I'm leaving.  But don't come crying to me when you're horny later."

"I wouldn't dream of it, Dean."

Dean wanders around the bunker aimlessly for a while, before making his way back to the kitchen.  He's starting to get hungry anyway, so he figures he might as well make something to eat.  And by something he means pie. 

He's mixing up the filling when Castiel walks into the kitchen, pattern book in hand.  Cas raises an eyebrow at the dusting of flour covering most of the horizontal surfaces in the room, and most of Dean, but doesn't say anything.  He walks over to the island table, hops up on its surface, and cracks open his book.

They work in silence for a while, Dean sneaking glances up at Castiel every so often.  Cas is wearing a pair of Dean's old jeans, the ones he'd ripped at the knees when he fell running away from a poltergeist.  He's got that adorable scrunched-up concentration face on, and is staring at the knitting patterns like they've personally insulted him.  Dean thinks Cas would be about three minutes away from smiting the book if he could still smite things.

Dean picks up the mixing bowl full of pie filling and makes his way over to Cas. The closer he gets the better he can see the marks he left on Cas' neck and chest yesterday, which makes his stomach flutter.

"Here, try this," Dean says, as he reaches out with the mixing spoon. Cas flinches so hard at Dean's words that he almost falls off the table, flailing his arms and righting himself by grasping onto of Dean’s shoulder..

"Easy, Cas," Dean soothes, a smile threatening to break across his face. "It's just pie filling. As far as I know, it's not dangerous."

Castiel scowls and pulls his hand back, settling himself on the table once again. "These knitting patterns are proving difficult to decipher. I don't understand the references and shorthand."

"Maybe you should try looking them up online. There has to be websites or videos that could help. Sam could probably find some if you asked. Kid is crazy about research, after all."

Castiel's eyes widen as he looks up. "Dean, that is an excellent idea. I think..."

Dean waits for Cas to finish his thought. He doesn't. "You think what, Cas? Cas? Hey, you okay?"

Cas’ eyes are wide as he forces out a " _Dean._ "

That sounds like Cas' sex voice. Well, his voice _always_ sounds like a sex voice, but right now Cas sounds like he wants to devour Dean whole. Which Dean is _so_  totally on board with if the way his cock twitches is any indication.  He's not really sure what set Cas off this time until he follows Castiel's gaze up to his shoulder. He inhales sharply as a surge of desire whips through his body.

There on his shoulder is a perfect handprint in flour, exactly where the scarred print used to be. Dean looks back down at Cas and smirks. Cas' pupils are blown, black overtaking the sharp blue. Cas locks eyes with Dean as he slowly reaches his hand up, up, up. Dean is hard in his jeans, and he feels like he might explode all over the kitchen if Cas doesn't get his hand on him _now._

Dean whines, actually whines, _Jesus_ , when Castiel finally makes contact with the handprint. Cas growls deep in his throat and pulls Dean down on top of him on the table and absolutely mauls his mouth.

They're so intent on sucking each other's faces off that they barely even hear Sam's affronted shout of, "Gross!" from the doorway.

"Seriously, you guys were having a nice moment there. God, does _everything_  have to be about sex with you two?"

Dean and Cas both pause long enough to shout back, "Go away, Sam!" before Dean pulls Castiel down to the floor and Sam beats a hasty retreat.

 

*********************

Sam finds them a hunt later that night, so they leave early the next morning. They're headed to Minnesota, which is a bitch of a drive, especially in December.  Dean puts in one of his mix tapes and settles in for a long day of driving.

It's some time after lunch that Dean notices a faint clicking sound, barely noticeable over the music. He turns toward Sam to ask if he hears it, too, but Sam is fast asleep. How that kid gets food comas when he eats salads Dean will never know. He decides to ask Cas instead, worried that something is wrong with his baby and wanting to verify that he isn't just hearing things. He glances in the rear-view mirror and almost runs the car off the road. Cas is sitting in the back seat, knitting. The clicking sound is his knitting needles clacking together as Castiel works them back and forth, back and forth.

"Are you – why are you knitting in the car?" Dean sputters.

Castiel furrows his brow. "It's a long way to Minnesota, Dean, and this helps me pass the time. I'm not as good at sleeping in the car as Sam.  I need some other form of distraction."

Huh. That actually makes a lot of sense.  "That actually makes a lot of sense, Cas."

Castiel rolls his eyes.  "I'm glad I have your permission to continue what I was going to do anyway."

Dean snorts. "I liked it better when you didn't know sarcasm."

"No, you don't."

Dean smiles. "No, I don't.  Just don't knit something stupid, like a sweater, or a purse or something."

"I wouldn't dream of knitting something that offends your masculine sensibilities, Dean."

"Damn straight."

 

*********************

Their prey turns out to be a wendigo, which means lots of hiking around outside. In Minnesota. In December.

"Fuck, it's cold out.  Why couldn't this stupid wendigo hibernate and start eating people in better weather?" Dean whines.

"Stop whining, Dean. We all know how cold you are," Sam replies.

"Well, we all don't have stupidly long hair insulating our heads, now do we?"

Sam rolls his eyes and keeps hiking. They're getting close to where the latest snow-shoers disappeared.

"I think I see something in that thicket," Castiel says, pointing at an area of underbrush a few hundred feet away.

"Thank God. I can't wait to be back in a warm room," Dean gripes.

Sam rolls his eyes again and trudges over to the area Cas indicated, Dean and Cas following closely behind.

Castiel ends up being right, and they find and dispatch the wendigo shortly after that. They catch the creature while it's feeding, which is gross, but at least it's distracted enough that Sam is able to creep up and torch it before it even knows anyone is there.

"Huh. That was surprisingly easy," Sam comments, as they're hiking back to the Impala.

"Whatever, I'll take it," Dean replies. "The sooner we can all get out of this cold the better."

They walk in silence after that. Dean glances over at Castiel every so often, and finds him staring off into the distance with a look of wonder on his face.  And though it _is_ stupidly cold, Dean does have to admit that the forest looks beautiful, the snow muting all sound and sparkling in the sunlight like scattered broken glass.  Cas always had a better appreciation for nature than he did.

Dean makes his way over to Cas and bumps his shoulder against the former angel's.

"Hey," he says.

Castiel looks at him and smiles. "Hello, Dean."

Dean smiles back and takes Cas' hand in his, "To keep it warm," he says, though Castiel knows the truth of it. Dean doesn't let go until they reach the Impala.

 

*********************

A week later Kevin, Sam, and Dean are sitting down to dinner when Castiel comes over to the table and drops a package in front of Dean. It's wrapped messily in newspaper, long lines of Scotch tape running across the surface.

Dean raises his eyebrow as he asks, "What’s this, Cas?"

"It's a gift for you, Dean."

Dean huffs. "Yeah, I can see that, but what is it?"

Castiel frowns. "Telling you what it is would ruin the surprise of the gift. Just open it, Dean."

"Um, right. Yeah."

Dean takes a deep breath and opens the package.  He stares down at the contents and blinks a few times, trying to make sense of what he's seeing. It looks like a knitted hat and underneath that is a matching scarf.  They're dark blue, and the hat has some sort of pattern woven into it that makes long vertical stripes.  Dean picks up the hat.  It's...hideous. The stitches are uneven, there are gaps and holes and twists that look like they don't belong.  The scarf is much the same. 

Dean's trying to think of something nice to say when he looks up at Castiel.  Cas' face is open and hopeful in a way it rarely is, and Dean can see how much this means to him.  He smiles and puts on the hat, then wraps the scarf around his neck. _Fuck, they're even itchy_.

"Thanks, Cas," he murmurs.  "These are great."

Castiel beams and ducks his head down, trying to hide the blush Dean knows is creeping across his face. "Now our winter hunts won't be so bad," Cas says, looking back up.

"Yeah," Dean agrees.  He glances across the table at Sam and Kevin. Sam's face is red and twisted from trying to hold back his laughter, and Kevin looks like he's watching a real-life Hallmark card, the traitors. Sam mimics a whip cracking with his hand, and Dean glares at him.  Before he can respond, Castiel says, "I'm glad you like them.  Now, what's for dinner?  I'm starving."

 

*********************

Kevin makes a breakthrough on the angel tablet, so Sam, Dean, and Castiel head out to find the first ingredient they need for the spell that will return the angels to heaven. It's in Ohio, and since December in Ohio is miserable, Dean decides to pack his new scarf and hat.

That turns out to be an excellent decision, because this December in Ohio is especially miserable. The spell component they need is hidden somewhere in an old mansion on the Lake Erie shore.  They break in with no trouble and find giant shelves filled with books and knickknacks, furniture draped in white sheets, and random boxes piled in corners.

"I thought you said no one lived here, Sam?" Dean asks as his hand drifts toward his gun.

"No one does.  The house is owned by some old steel family, but they live in Connecticut now.  They haven't been back here in years.  It's as good as abandoned," Sam offers.

Dean lets his hand drift back to his side and wanders over to the nearest light switch.  The lights come on as he throws it.  "Huh.  Looks like they never bothered to disconnect the juice."

"Wish we could say the same about the heat," Sam grouses.

Dean casts a knowing glance at Castiel, also wrapped up in a scarf and hat he knitted for himself.

"Is it cold in here?  I barely noticed," Dean teases as he snuggles into his scarf and smirks at his brother.

"Yeah, yeah.  Let's just find this fossil thing that we need and get out of here," Sam says, rolling his eyes as he walks away.

 

*********************

Castiel presents Sam with his very own hat and scarf a few weeks later.  Dean files the moment away under _things to torment my brother with months down the line when he has forgotten he should be embarrassed about it_.

 

*********************

It's a regular old Tuesday morning when Dean opens his sock drawer and freezes.  All his normal, comfortable, normal, white, and did he mention NORMAL socks are gone.  They've been replaced with knitted socks in dark, rich colors, blues and greens and browns.  And then there are the striped pairs.  Lots of striped pairs.  Just so many stripes.  Dean grabs a striped pair and strides angrily out of their room, yelling, "CAS!" at the top of his lungs.

He finds Castiel in one of the storage rooms, going through boxes and cataloguing the contents.  Which is actually a really good idea and will come in handy the next time they – _no, don't get sidetracked,_ Dean tells himself.   _You're angry about socks._

"What's the matter, Dean?" Castiel asks, setting down his clipboard and pen.

"I'm angry about socks!" Dean shouts as he waves the striped socks in Castiel's direction.

"What did the socks do this time?" Castiel asks, eyes twinkling.

"They have stripes!"

"They do."

"Why?"

"Because the yarn is dyed in such a manner that when I knit it a stripe pattern emerges and—"

"No, not _literally_ why do the socks have stripes, Cas.  Why are there striped socks in my drawer?  And other socks?  Where are MY socks?"

"I threw them out, Dean."

Dean sputters.  "You did what?  Why would you do that?"

Castiel furrows his brow and says, "Because every single pair of your socks had holes in them.  Every one.  I checked.  Some of them had more than one hole, in fact.  Dean, I don't understand why you're upset about this.  I've been knitting socks in the back of the Impala for weeks now.  You even told me you liked one of the green pairs."

"Yeah, but I didn't think they were for _me_."

"Who else would they be for, Dean?" Castiel asks, tilting his head.

"Sam or Kevin, maybe?" Dean tells him.  "Or you?  I don't know, someone who actually _likes_ knitted socks?"  And, _oh shit_.  Castiel looks pissed now.

"So you're saying you only like my knitting when it's for someone else?  You didn’t have a problem with the hat and scarf, but socks cross some invisible line?  I’m not a mind reader anymore, Dean!  Excuse me for wanting to make you something nice." Castiel brushes past Dean and storms out of the room.

Dean reaches out to grasp Castiel's arm and stop him, but he shakes Dean off and keeps going.  "Cas, wait!"  Dean grabs his shoulder and spins Castiel around so they're facing each other again.

"What, Dean?!" Castiel spits out.

"Look, I'm sorry, all right?  Just – it's not the socks, okay?  The socks are fine.  Hell, they're probably way more comfortable than my old ones anyway."

"Then what is the problem?" Cas asks.

"I'm just – it's – I'm not…" Dean trails off, closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath.

"You know, the only person here who's going to judge you for talking about your feelings is you," Castiel says quietly.

Dean feels his stomach flutter and his throat tighten as he opens his eyes and looks at Castiel, who's waiting patiently for Dean to continue.  And he suddenly can't stand to not be kissing Cas, so he surges forward and does just that.  Castiel squeaks in surprise, and Dean breaks the kiss and pulls back to smile at Cas, because who fucking squeaks?  It's adorable, Jesus.  He's still smiling as he leans in for more kisses, soft little kisses that leave Dean tight in his chest.  When he's had his fill, he leans his forehead against Castiel's and just breathes for a minute.

"This doesn't mean you're off the hook, you know," Castiel says, breaking the silence.  "Tell me, Dean."

Dean sometimes thinks Cas is lying about the mind reading thing.

"I'm not...used to people doing things like that for me, okay?" Dean chokes out.

"Like what?  Kissing?  Because it seems to me—"

"No, not kissing.  The socks.  You made something for me.  Lots of somethings.  And not because I asked you to or needed you to.  Just because you wanted me to have something better.  That's – it doesn't happen to me very often, so I don't know how to react when it does."

Castiel cups Dean's face with his hand, grazing Dean's cheekbone with his thumb as he says, "You could try just saying thank you."

Dean snorts and turns his head to kiss the pad of Castiel's thumb.  "Thank you, Cas."

Castiel smiles, saying, "You're welcome, Dean."

 

*********************

Long drives spent in the back of the Impala are extremely conducive to knitting, as it turns out.  Castiel ends up making socks for Sam and Kevin, and a shawl for Charlie after she comes back from Oz and mentions that the nights there are surprisingly cold.  He knits for himself too, a cabled fisherman's sweater in a deep heathered gray that fits him perfectly.  Dean's mouth waters whenever he sees Cas in it, and it's impossible to keep his hands to himself.  The sweater ends up cast aside on their bedroom floor more often than not.

There are only so many things you can knit for your friends and family, though, so eventually Castiel starts knitting items for charity.  He makes hats and socks and scarves for the nearest women's shelter.  He makes toys for kids at the local hospital.  He knits so much that Dean thinks he's personally keeping the Yarn Barn in business.  Secretly, though, Dean loves the little self-satisfied look Cas gets when he finishes a project.  And he's always extra frisky that night, so it's a win for everyone.

 

*********************

Castiel is sitting at the big table in the bunker's common room working on a scarf when Dean walks into the room with a plate full of snacks.  Cas is so engrossed in his knitting that he doesn't hear Dean come in, so Dean stops and watches him work.  The months of practice mean Cas has gotten rather good at knitting, his hands moving with surprising speed as he manipulates the needles.  He doesn't even have to look at his hands anymore most of the time, so he watches movies and TV shows on the laptop Sam bought him. 

Dean finds himself drawn to the motion of Castiel's hands now, watches his long, elegant fingers moving back and forth, up and around.  Cas is all but caressing the yarn into place, and damn if that isn't sexy as hell.  Dean never had a thing for hands until he'd watched as Castiel had given him a handjob for the first time. It was the sight of those long fingers working his cock so precisely and delicately, like it, and by extension Dean, was something precious and worthwhile that had sent Dean hurtling toward one of the best orgasms of his life. 

Just thinking about that night has Dean half-hard in his jeans, so he decides to do something about it.  Except Cas hates to be disturbed when he's knitting.  But Dean hates letting a good boner go to waste.  Surely Cas won't mind a blowjob, even if it is interrupting his knitting?   _Right_?  Dean's dick twitches its agreement at that thought, so blowjob it is.

Dean puts down his plate of food and makes his way over to where Castiel is sitting.  He shuts Castiel's laptop forcefully, which makes him jump in his chair.

"Dean, what are you—"

"Shh, just let me," Dean says as he pulls Castiel's chair away from the table.  Satisfied the chair is pulled far enough out that he won't knock his head on the table while he's on his knees, Dean trails his hand across Castiel's shoulder as he walks around to face him.

"Let you what?" Castiel asks.  "I'm working on this scarf."

"I can see that," Dean all but purrs as he reaches his destination and slides onto Castiel's lap.

"Dean, I'm busy," Castiel says as he transfers the scarf and knitting needles to his right hand, running his left hand up Dean's thigh slowly.  Dean smirks as he leans down and kisses Castiel lightly, nipping his bottom lip as he pulls back slightly, giving Cas a chance to say no.  Castiel grunts and surges forward, crashing their mouths together as he grips Dean's hip, holding him in place as he snaps his own hips up.

Dean lets Castiel kiss him breathless and pulls away again, smiling as he leans back down to whisper in Cas’ ear, "Ah, ah, ah.  I said, ‘let _me_ '."

Castiel frowns.  "Dean, what—"

Dean is already moving as Castiel starts speaking.  He grabs Castiel's hands and forces his arms around the back of the chair, grasps both of Cas’ wrists with one hand and wraps the scarf around them a few times before knotting it tightly.

"That's better," he leers as he leans back to drink in the sight before him.  Castiel is breathing hard, and his pupils are blown.  Dean can tell he's testing the strength of the scarf binding from the way his arms are moving, and that just won't do.  Dean takes Castiel's face in his hands and licks his way into Castiel's mouth, hearing a low moan when he flits his tongue on the roof of Cas’ mouth just how he likes it.

Dean kisses the bolt of Castiel's jaw, his Adam's apple, bites his neck and then licks the pain away as Castiel moans and jerks his hips up so hard Dean almost falls off his lap.  Dean takes the opportunity to lean back and look at Castiel.  His head is thrown back, eyes closed tight and kiss-reddened mouth open.  His hands are clenching and unclenching, body taut and tense.  He likes being able to touch Dean while they're having sex, says the contact grounds him.  Dean thinks it's a shame they don't do this more often because Cas looks beautiful like this, eager and needy and wanton.  He's shifting in the chair now, hips making small circles as he searches for friction to ease his aching cock.

"Dean, please," he whispers, and Dean's cock jerks aggressively.  Dean leans back in for another kiss, before sliding off Castiel's lap.  Castiel whimpers and Dean shushes him, taps his hips and tells him to lift so he can drag off Cas’ jeans and boxer briefs and throw them aside.  Castiel is hard and leaking and perfect, and Dean's mouth waters as he drops to his knees.

"Scoot forward," he tells Castiel, breath ghosting over his cockhead, and Castiel shivers and does as he's told.  "That's better," Dean says huskily, just to watch Cas shiver again.  He's making tiny, desperate noises that Dean loves, uninhibited whimpers and gasps that he never learned to suppress.  Dean's cock shimmies again, wet tip of it leaking out into his boxers, and he takes a minute just to breathe in Castiel's scent because the anticipation is half the fun.

"Don't be such a fucking tease," Castiel forces out, voice rough and cracking.  Dean smirks and licks up Castiel's cock from root to tip, slowly, slowly, until he reaches the slit and dips his tongue in to catch the pearly fluid he knows he'll find.  Castiel keens at that, and Dean takes pity on him, swallowing him down until his cock bumps against the back of his throat.  He moves with Castiel as he thrusts up a few times, before pulling back and gripping Cas' hips tightly, holding him down.

"I do believe I said ‘let me,' Cas," Dean repeats as Castiel swears and looks down at Dean.  Dean grins again and starts lapping at Castiel's cock, little kitten licks up, down, and around the head, back to his slit to collect another bead of precome. Dean takes Castiel into his mouth again and sinks down slowly, swallows when he feels the head of Cas’ cock hit the back of his throat, and pulls back again, slowly, agonizingly slowly, savoring the feel of Castiel's cock in his mouth, the taste of it bursting across his tongue.

Castiel is practically whining now as Dean sucks him down, frantic and needy, and _fuck_ , Dean loves it when he's like this, the little noises going straight to his dick.  He can feel himself leaking into his boxers, hard and aching, and _damn it_ , if he doesn't get a hand on himself now he's going to burst. He reaches down, undoes his fly, and pulls out his dick, stroking it hard and fast a few times before settling into the same pace he's using on Castiel.

Castiel moans when he sees Dean start touching himself.  He's practically vibrating out of the chair, and Dean can see his hands start to move feverishly, fingers fanning out and clenching.  Dean smirks to himself as he thinks about how maddening this must be for Castiel, tied up and not able to – wait, how can he even _see_ Cas' hands? Did he untie the scarf? _Oh, shit._

Dean pulls off Castiel's cock with a pop as Cas glares down at Dean, eyes hungry and sharp, and Dean is frozen under the weight of his gaze, gasping for breath, cock pulsing and leaking onto the floor.  Moment over, Castiel flings the chair aside and pounces, _fucking pounces,_ on Dean, knocking him to the floor.

"Cas, fuck!" Dean cries, as Castiel lines himself up on top of Dean and grinds down hard.  Dean screws his eyes shut and throws his head back, moaning as Castiel sucks at his neck before pulling back to spit in his hand.  He devours Dean's mouth as he takes both their cocks in hand, stripping them rough and fast.  Dean moans, and Castiel swallows it down as he thrusts up into Cas’ fist.  It's sloppy and perfect, too much and not enough. 

"Cas, I need – I want…" _Fuck,_ he doesn't know what he wants, just knows that he needs more.  Castiel shifts, bracing himself on one arm as he releases his hold on their dicks and brings his hand up to Dean's mouth.  Circling his hips as he pushes down into Dean, he traces his thumb along Dean's lips, stroking it across the lower lip as he says, "Open up, Dean."

Dean does, and Castiel slides his thumb into his mouth, gently stroking his tongue in time with the thrusting of his hips.  Dean moans and sucks on Castiel's thumb because yes, this is _exactly_  what he wanted.  He curls his tongue and laps at Castiel's thumb to hear him moan.  Castiel swears and picks up the pace, and _Jesus_ , it feels good, the slip-slide of their cocks.  Dean can feel his orgasm start to build in his lower back, his balls tightening.  He can't suppress the little noises he's making now and doesn't want to, knowing that Cas loves it when he lets himself lose control. 

He's so goddamn close, and Castiel knows it, is whispering encouragement and endearments and God only knows what, because Dean can't concentrate on the words when he's this close to coming, brain full of light and heat and _CasCasCas._   He snaps his hips up violently, once, twice, three times, and then he's coming hard, with a muffled shout.  Castiel works him through it, wringing every last drop of come from Dean's body until he's left breathless and loose-limbed and sated.

Dean feels Castiel shift back on his haunches, but in his post-coital haze he can't figure out why until he hears him grunt and feels the hot splash of Castiel's come across his softening cock and up his stomach, landing in thick ropes on his body.  He moans softly and opens his eyes to look at Castiel.  Cas' head is thrown back and his eyes shut tight, mouth open, hand on his cock as he strokes himself soft. He looks beautiful like this, and so human it makes Dean's chest ache.  He suddenly can't stand to not be kissing Cas, so Dean surges up and wraps himself around him, crashing their mouths together.  Startled, Castiel flinches hard, throwing them off balance, and they tumble to the floor, legs tangled up together.  They're both covered in come, cooling now and starting to go tacky, and a shower is definitely in order soon, Dean thinks.  But not yet.  Castiel is warm beneath him, so he kisses him again and runs his hand through his hair to make it even wilder. 

Sam picks that moment to walk into the room, the fucker, and there is a shout of "GROSS, DEAN!!!!!" as he turns around and walks right back out again.

Castiel frowns.  “I don’t understand why Sam is always so affronted by our physical displays of affection.”

Dean is on top of Castiel on the cold, hard floor, they're naked and covered in come, his brother just walked in on them, and it's so fucking ridiculous and perfect that Dean starts to laugh.  Cas stares at Dean for a minute before cracking a smile and laughing, too, which makes Dean so happy he laughs even harder.

And if they stay on the floor together laughing and stealing kisses far longer than necessary, well, Sam can fucking deal with it.

*********************

It's December again.  And they're in Ohio again.  And it's miserable.   _Again_.  They're in some godforsaken cemetery in some godforsaken town, digging up the corpse of one Jacob Podalski.  Thank whoever the ground isn't frozen yet, at least.  Dean's starting to get cold now that it's Sam's turn to dig, so he goes over to the duffel and pulls out his hat and scarf and puts them on.  He walks back over to stand next to Castiel as he watches Sam dig.  They stand in silence for a while, shoulders touching lightly.  Cas turns toward Dean to say something and then stops himself, frowning as he inspects Dean's hat and scarf.

Dean squirms.  "What?  Cas, what?"

"You should get rid of that hat and scarf when we get home. I'll make you new ones."

"What?  No.  Why would I do that?"

"These garments are hideous, Dean. I can make you much nicer ones now."

"They're not hideous!"

"Dean, there are gaps where there shouldn't be gaps, like I randomly increased and decreased stitches.  I cabled a few times accidentally, and I dropped stitches and randomly picked them back up again rows later."

Dean blinks.  "I have no idea what you just said. What the hell does that even mean?"

"It means those garments are abominations, Dean!"

"That's a bit harsh."

"No, they truly are abominations, and I'm ashamed that I created them.  Let me make you new ones."

"No."

"Dean, I used wool yarn.  Itchy wool yarn!  I have a multitude of nice blends now that will be just as warm and won't be as itchy."

"I don't care that they're itchy, Cas."

"Then why?"

"What?"

"Why won't you let me knit you a new set?"

"I don't know.  I'm used to these ones."  Dean huffs in frustration.  "Will you just drop it already?"

"Not until you give me a good reason why you won't destroy those offensive things."

"Oh, for _fuck's_  sake!" Sam yells from the grave.  "Dean doesn't want to get rid of the hat and scarf because they're the first things you knitted, Cas, and he won't admit it, but he's a sentimental sap.  The fact that the first things you ever made were for Dean is _important_  to him, makes him feel all warm and fuzzy inside.  He doesn't want to get rid of them because when he wears them he thinks of you, and that makes him happy.   _God,_ you two are disgusting."

Wide-eyed, Castiel turns to Dean and asks, "Is that true?  Not the disgusting part, but the rest."

Dean shrugs his shoulder and looks down at his feet, shuffling them for a minute before looking back up at Castiel.  "Yeah.  Yeah, it's true."

Castiel stares at Dean in disbelief just long enough for Dean to get nervous before his lips curl into a smile.  Dean smiles back, relieved, as Castiel says, "If we weren't in the middle of a hunt, I would climb on top of you and ride you like—"

"AUGH, WHAT THE SHIT, CAS?!?  I'm _right here,_ " Sam hisses.  "I swear, if you two are doing this on purpose, I’m gonna put Nair in your shampoo or something."

As Sam mutters more threats, Dean laughs and wraps his scarf tighter against the cold, itchy wool be damned.

 

 

 

 


End file.
